


A song of Lavender and warmth

by IndigoDream



Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Day 7: Established Relationship, Established Relationship, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), M/M, Oxenfurt (The Witcher), Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: After a long winter being separated from Jaskier, Geralt rides to meet with his newly-discovered soulmate. Leaving Kaer Morhen has never been so easy.---Written for Geralt Fluff Week Day 7: Established Relationship
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859671
Comments: 16
Kudos: 255
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	A song of Lavender and warmth

Leaving Kaer Morhen that winter is easier than ever. He says goodbye to Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert in a breath, in a quick hug and a foot already up in the stirrup of Roach’s saddle. His pack is tightly put away to her saddle, and his swords are as well. There is no need to put them on his back for now, not until he has left the valley where the fortress is situated will he need to watch his back. 

“In a hurry, aren’t you?” Lambert grins as Geralt gets on Roach’s back. “Have someone to meet?” 

“Leave him alone.” Eskel’s grin is just as wide and all-knowing as their younger brother’s. “He has been humming under his breath all winter, we don’t want to have him start full on serenading us.” 

Geralt glares at his brothers. “Piss off.” 

“Sure, count on that,” Lambert grins again. “Go find your man now, I can’t stand your fucking singing anymore.” 

With a last goodbye and a roll of his eyes, Geralt starts Roach on the path that leads down Kaer Morhen. He keeps her at a trot, and tries not to press her. There is a two weeks worth of riding to Oxenfurt, he has to manage her. He’ll probably have to walk at her side some times, but he needs to get there. He needs to get to Oxenfurt, as fast as possible. 

Underneath his ribcage, the buttercup mark thrills with joy. He is finally going back to Jaskier, to his _soulmate_. Because Geralt has one of those now. He hadn’t thought it possible that he had a soulmate until half a year ago, barely two months before he had returned to the witchers’ castle. 

But Jaskier has a spear engraved over his heart, one that had appeared two weeks after they had first kissed. It had appeared the moment Geralt had realized that this, the relationship he had begun with Jaskier, was more than just a passing fling; this was the love of his life, Jaskier was the one Geralt would always devote himself to. Damned be the rest of the world, Jaskier was the one to whom Geralt would always come back. 

Geralt’s own buttercup had appeared long before that, but he had paid it no attention. Truth be told, he hadn’t really noticed when it had appeared, but once he had realized, he hadn’t connected the flower to Jaskier. He hadn’t realized that Jaskier meant _buttercup_ at the time, and now he finds himself silly for it. How stupid was he, to not realize his soulmate was walking by his side. 

The ride to Oxenfurt is devilishly slow. Roach is strong as ever, and well rested from her winter in Kaer Morhen’s stable, but to Geralt, who has just spent four months separated from his love, he finds it difficult to stop moving. Hours are spent alternating between riding and walking, and he only stops a few hours to catch some rest, and to let Roach rest as well. 

It takes him only nine days to reach the Academy. Nine days over fourteen, and he finds himself smiling without even meaning to. He bites his smile down, forces himself to look the part of the scary witcher everyone expects to see. The way to Jaskier’s residence in the Academy is burned in his memory.

Geralt regrets not taking Jaskier to Kaer Morhen now. It was just so new, and Jaskier had already agreed to give a trimester of classes, and… They had found themselves annoyed and resenting of their obligations when they had separated in Oxenfurt. The witcher had damned all the gods in the sky for making him be apart from Jaskier for four long months.

He ties Roach’s bridle to a post outside of the tall building where he knows he will find Jaskier, and he doesn’t wait a second longer. Pack swung over his shoulder and swords tightened properly, he walks to the door in a hurry, and is relieved to find it open. There is no doubt to him that he would have broken it down if needed, but he would rather avoid getting into a shouting match with the Oxenfurt’s Head of Residence. The old man already hadn’t liked him when he had dropped Jaskier off in the fall; apparently, the fact that Jaskier had chosen to devote himself to a witcher had been seen as slightly offensive. 

“Fuck them,” Jaskier had growled, and he had pushed Geralt against the wall, thoroughly kissing him within an inch of his life. 

It’s something that Geralt loves with Jaskier. How precious and delicate the man makes him feel. When Jaskier touches him, Geralt feels as if he is the rarest pearl in all the seas, as if he is the treasure to smother all other treasure. Every touch of Jaskier stays on Geralt’s skin until he has forgotten what it is not to be loved. 

The stairs finally end, but the corridor starts, and Geralt growls. This is never ending torture. First, four months, then nine days, then all the fucking stairs and corridors. He wants to be within his lover’s reach, _now_. Only a few more meters and he’ll be there, Jaskier will be there and in his arms and-

The third-to-last door on the left flies open, and Jaskier steps out. He isn’t wearing a doublet, simply a loose shirt with simple burgundy pants, and his hair is disheveled. His eyes are sleepy, but he sees Geralt, and suddenly joy overcomes his features. He looks delighted, overjoyed, and he takes off running. 

They meet in the middle, and Geralt receives his lover’s weight in his arms, lifting him and twirling in the air. Jaskier’s laugh is pure magic in the air, filling Geralt with unending joy and a peace that he has only ever felt at Jaskier’s side. 

“You’re back,” Jaskier murmurs and wraps his legs around his waist, forcing Geralt to hold him tighter by the thighs and waist. “You’re finally back, I’ve been waiting for you all winter… I thought about you all the time, kept touching my spear and wondering if you could feel me calling to you… I missed you something terrible, my wolf.” 

His hands full of his lover’s thighs, Geralt walks them back to Jaskier’s room as he nuzzles at Jaskier’s neck. The scent of lavender is still the same, delicate and half faded, having been applied earlier in the day. 

“I missed you so much too,” Geralt grunts and kisses him, pulling at the bard’s lips with his teeth and letting his grip on Jaskier’s thighs falter as they reach the bed. 

The kiss is full of a fire born of despair and missing one another, and it lasts until they are both left panting and still needing more. Geralt tosses his swords and pack somewhere in the room and goes back to kissing Jaskier, who is starting to make a quick work of his light armour. 

“You couldn’t have worn a shirt,” the other man grunts, looking annoyed for an instant. “How am I supposed to be dashingly quick in undressing you if you keep wearing so many layers? I can’t seduce you if I’m struggling just taking this damn armour off your shoulders. Where is my charm then!” 

“You don’t need to seduce me anymore,” Geralt chuckles but helps his lover undress him. “I’ve already been thoroughly seduced by you, many times.” 

“And if you could keep it private, that would be very much appreciated,” a dry voice comments from the door. 

Valdo Marx is standing there, looking displeased and slightly disgusted as he crosses his arms. Just as Geralt remembers, the man’s moustache is overwhelmingly ugly, and while he is rather tall and well-built, he doesn’t hold a candle to Jaskier’s otherworldly beauty. After all, there are very few who can compare to Geralt’s soulmate, in term of beauty. 

“Then close the door, Marx,” Jaskier snaps. “And stop being a voyeur.”

“Your door is open and you were making animalistic noises, I merely thought—“ 

“Get the fuck out,” Geralt growls and glares at him. “Or my next hunt will result in other unpleasant animalistic noise coming from you.” 

To the man’s credit, he only rolls his eye at Geralt’s threat, but he does grab the doorknob. “Your boyfriend has boorish manners, Julian,” he says as he closes the door. 

“Get out and shut the fuck up!” Jaskier yells and throws a pillow against the now closed wooden door. 

There is a moment where they both stare at the door, and then Geralt starts chuckling. Jaskier follows suit, and soon they are collapsed side by side on the bed, laughing loudly and holding each other. 

“Gods, it had to be him who interrupted us,” Jaskier scoffs and moves so that he lays on top of Geralt, who has no shirt covering his torso anymore. Idly tracing the buttercup under his ribs, Jaskier’s fingers make Geralt shiver with their delicate touch. “I don’t think your big witcher threat scared him off though, which is really a shame. The things we could get away if that bastard happened to be afraid of you…” 

A wishful sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips and he rests his head over Geralt’s heart, looking up at his lover adoringly. His fingers move up to caress the beard developing on Geralt’s chin and he hums appreciatively. He places a delicate kiss in the Witcher’s neck before settling down again. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he smiles happily, and Geralt feels his heartbeat pick up. No one is better than Jaskier to make him act foolishly and recklessly, and this seems to apply to his body as well. 

“I’m glad I am as well.” 

Jaskier hums happily and then frowns. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” 

Geralt could attempt to deny it, but his own body is betraying him. Nine days with only a couple hours of sleep here and there have taken their toll on him, and he finds himself hiding yawns. 

“Rode here as fast as I could,” he explains and leans into Jaskier’s touch. “Had to see you.” 

“You ridiculous man,” Jaskier says fondly, but he stays lying down on top of Geralt. “Rest up, my love.” 

He wants to protest, to say that he is fine, but it would be lying. So he moves so that, rather than on top of him, Jaskier is holding him. Geralt’s head is pushed against Jaskier’s torso, and he breathes in the reassuring scent. 

He lets himself drift off to sleep as Jaskier hums and combs his hair. Lavender stays on his mind, and his hands are tightly holding onto his lover’s waist. He won’t let them be separated again.

**Author's Note:**

> And this concludes the Geralt Fluff Week 2020 for me :D Hope y'all enjoyed this, and that you found this fic sweet :D 
> 
> If you did, don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudos, and come check me out on tumblr (@saltytransidiot)!


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